


Between Two Points

by Viure



Category: Naruto
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Canon-Typical Violence, Gen, at some point, this is very peaceful
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-04-14
Updated: 2019-04-14
Packaged: 2020-01-13 10:33:46
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,198
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18467170
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Viure/pseuds/Viure
Summary: He's come all the way from the Land of Lightning, only to find out that the Amekage does not, in fact, want him to kill a defector. Kakuzu doesn't particularly mind, as long as he's paid.





	Between Two Points

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Ghost_Kaiju](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Ghost_Kaiju/gifts).



> A very belated gift for ghost-kaiju. Thanks for hosting the Akatsuki Gift Exchange! 
> 
> Based on the prompt: Amekage!Konan AU, though I'm kind of afraid the rest of the prompts have settled in my head too, and this is now not a single plot bunny, but a whole herd of them.
> 
>  
> 
> [accompanying konan art piece @tumblr](http://viurasart.tumblr.com/post/184186562848/between-two-points-ao3-ghost-kaiju-thanks-so)

There’s a heavy fog hanging over the lake, but as the small boat cuts through the still water, the sky at least is dry. If he was superstitious, it would be an auspicious omen. 

As it stands, he's not, and it doesn't last anyway. He leaves the second half of the money he paid for passage in exact ryo notes on his seat and ignores the boatman fiddling with the ropes in favor of getting ashore with one large step, briefly balancing on the waterside edge of the concrete pier before hauling himself over the rusted metal railing. In the lower levels of the city, it starts as a drizzle. The water is barely audible there, covered up by the whirling of electricity generators and the exhaust of internal air conditioning systems, of which there are many. As he walks under a covered passage that slowly winds upwards between the behemoth towers of Amegakure, he can hear the pattering of the rain on the arch as it picks up in intensity, until the rustle of it becomes a persistent drumbeat hitting metal. 

It's been a while since he's been in the presence of a Kage, self-proclaimed or not. 

If he cared at all about village politics (which he does, but no more than to ascertain if and how their movements are of financial interest to him), he might have been impressed with Amegakure’s current political standing and how they got there. However, despite their recent stroke of fortune, evidently not all is well. A willingness to make exceptions when it comes to gaining access to the village as a foreigner never bode well for nation, especially when the Kage in question asked for your presence – and paid just for that too. After all, he’s not looking to make a habit of ending lucrative assignments for Kumo early, it’s only logical that he’s compensated for that in advance. 

\-----------

The Amekage is not in his Bingo Book – not yet anyway, though he has an inkling there has to be an entry on her in the Kusagakure edition. Her control over the area surrounding the village hadn’t been received particularly well. Hanzo had focused the efforts to provide his personal security on the village itself, leaving the borders of the land surrounding it not nearly as heavily guarded, but after his disappearance his successor changed that, putting a larger area under the protection of the Shodaime Amekage, and ruling over the country like a Daimyo would. 

Needless to say, Kusa for one had been none too pleased.

Kakuzu really couldn’t care less. 

The Amekage watches his approach with all the cool confidence of someone not afraid of a premature ending of their term of office due to assassination. Easy to be that confident if your reign started on the bodies of anyone who opposed you. 

She isn’t visibly wearing armor either, but she wears the rebreather common to shinobi of her village slung around her neck, and as she takes off the hat that left her face shadowed in the neon glare of the signs dispersed throughout the city, he catches the light reflecting of a piece of pointed steel protruding from her bun. There’s a curious glint in her eyes as she takes in his appearance. He tolerates it purely because she’ll be footing the bill at the end of whatever expedition she’s got in mind. Her eyes linger briefly on the red of his, before he’s apparently deemed suitable, and she smiles. 

“Thank you for coming.” She speaks a little like a diplomat. Not raised as one, certainly not in Ame, but her voice is level and devoid of anything but the token gratitude that comes before you say something distasteful. Or maybe that’s just him projecting. He’s curious too. 

He lets out a non-committal grunt in response, and waits for her to get on with it. 

It takes a few seconds. She doesn’t make to move from the bannister, even though she’s probably getting hit by some errant droplets. They’re shielded from the worst of it; he more than she, the building jutting out above them, but she’s at the very edge of the balcony, leaning motionless except the slight rise and fall of her shoulders, and eyes that don’t stop moving. 

“I need you to retrieve one of my associates. Alive,” she adds, as if it were an afterthought. 

Bringing someone in alive isn’t unheard of, even if it’s generally more of a hassle than just carrying a head. Bounties aren’t necessarily a death warrant, and sometimes the clients wants the pleasure of killing them themselves. Wouldn’t be the first time, and he’s fine with it. 

She interprets his lack of visible reaction as acquiescence. 

“He’s not a defector.” It’s said with a certainty that makes him want to laugh, and he lets out a sound that could be anything from acknowledgement to disdain. Something in it must’ve made her backtrack, because she elaborates further than just giving him a name and a rough location. Or perhaps she’s just remembering his reputation. You don’t end up asking for him for nothing, and he charges accordingly. 

“You’re sure about that?” He rumbles, and if it irritates her, she doesn’t show it. 

“He’s on a mission. He went silent three weeks ago. We knew there was a chance it would turn into a deep cover assignment. I need you to track him, make contact with him and extract him if it’s necessary.” She’s silent there for a beat, and it isn’t facetious in the way of a diplomat, it’s not-telling-something like a shinobi. “If he’s dead, I want his body.”

Ah. A little outside the scope of his normal activities, but you don’t become a successful bounty hunter without tracking people very well. That explains how she ended up requesting him, that bloody courier chasing him half way through the Land of Lightning. 

“You’re paying per day.” It’s not a question, nor a demand – a simple explanation of the facts of life. “Flat fee plus expenses, sixty percent of the total of that to be paid upon completion. Success fee.”

The kage shoots him a gauging look – shakes of the moisture of her hat and puts it back on, and crosses the distance between them with a few leisurely steps. 

“Fair.” It’s all she lets out on that, instead reaching to a pouch on her belt. He doesn’t tense at the movement, and takes the scroll she offers him. “Talk to the guard on the ground floor about setting up a line of credit for your expenses. His last communication came from the Land of Waves. Name’s Yahiko. Details are in the scroll.” She smiles a little thin-lipped smile, and moves past him into the building. 

The dismissal is clear. 

He stands there for another minute, familiarizing himself with this point in the city by taking in the markings and additions to the towers he looks out on, then moves to leave the terrace too. This will pay well, and while he has some financial incentive to drag it out, he’s not so stupid as to do that on the territory of the Amekage. Behind him, the rain stops.


End file.
